Posted in Challenges and Contests, Flash Fiction Pieces, Story a Day May Challenge, Writers' Resources, Writing in Freedom, Writing Samples

The Fix for #StoryADay May; Day Twenty

The Prompt:

  • Write a story that focuses on the discovery/invention/ramifications of something that shapes your characters’ physical world.

  • Fair Warning: This piece contains language and content that are NSFW, or potentially for young children who might peek over one’s shoulder to read.

The Fix:

Reality awaits when she comes back from her trip.

It’s been hours (or, at least, Marilyn thinks it has; since there’s no clock in here, it’s kind of hard to tell), but her legs are asleep and her neck kinked from the odd position she was in when she left on her trip…

She opens her eyes unwillingly, and very slowly.

She’s got a feeling there was something she’s supposed to remember…and a stronger feeling that she really doesn’t want to remember – not anything.

Not Mom coming home drunk and with yet another nameless lover.

Not the way the servants look at her.

Not the huge quiet house that feels more like an abandoned museum than a home.

The corner of the damned marble counter is right there. Marilyn runs her hand over it, letting herself feel the sharp angles. Marble is hard. If she slams her head into that corner – maybe there won’t be any need to be here all alone anymore. Sure, there are the servants – but she may as well just be alone, since they avoid her every chance they can.

One sharp blow. Just that, and she might be dead –

But there’s something she’s forgetting, isn’t there?

Yes.

She wouldn’t be shooting up in the bathroom if there wasn’t something, because she likes to take her trips on her couch – now that is home.

So why is she here, in the bathroom?

Marilyn’s eyes scan the room – there’s her kit. She slow-walks her fingers over to it, and caresses the soft leather. Her solace, her friend – her lifeline.

There’s something else here. It’s a brightly colored, printed cardboard box.

It’s completely out of place here.

Kind of like she is.

There’s something sitting on it – and that’s when she remembers. She peed on a stick, because she hasn’t had her period in too long – she doesn’t know how long, just that she hasn’t, and she feels funny, and there are lots of memories of fucking Brad, and lots of other guys, whenever she could get a fix or two out of it. She likes sex just fine – but she never does it for the sex. She does it for the fix.

Marilyn stares for a long time at that stick she peed on hours ago, without touching it. The stick that can change her life.

She can’t stand not knowing one second more. She grabs the stick, her fingertips thumping into the marble hard enough to make them sting. The box is flipped away, ignored, as she pulls the test to her chest, then looks.

A strong positive sign stares back up at her.

She never really gave any thought to getting pregnant. It’s about the fix, and the feeling that she matters to someone, even just until he ejaculates inside her. She knows it’s fake – but it’s another kind of fix – an affection fix.

Can she fix this?

Is the test correct?

What will Marilyn decide to do?

Will she follow through with her plan?

Any guesses?

Come back tomorrow for another installment, and we can explore this new story seed together!

Posted in Challenges and Contests, Enterprise fan fiction, Flash Fiction Pieces, Just for Fun!, Story a Day May Challenge, Writers' Resources, Writing in Freedom, Writing Samples

Landcape of Her Mind: #StoryADay May; Day Twenty

The Prompt:

  • Write a story that focuses on the discovery/invention/ramifications of something that shapes your characters’ physical world.

Standard disclaimer. I don’t own them, I don’t profit from them, but they insist on telling me their stories, so I’m sharing them with you.

Prompt Words:

kitndavj:

  • Bugger (Oh Crap)

  • Sparky (Electrician)

  • Jumbuck (sheep)

  • Jillaroo (sheep)

  • Station (Gigantic Farm)

  • Durrie (Cigarette)

Word Prompt Generator:

  • acidic

  • angel

  • tickle

  • beer

  • bitter

And now I offer you…

Landscape of Her Mind

There was solace in acidic waters and sulfurous steam. T’Pol felt the tickle of her human in her mind; his thoughts and experiences suffusing and blending with her own:

The bitter taste of dark beer. Strange expressions without logical meaning.

“Bugger, Sparky. I’ve met a pointy-eared angel.” He was speaking to someone who didn’t exist – so little logic in such an activity. “Put out the durrie. We’re going to the jumbuck station. No, she’s no jillaroo. She’s a Vulcan. Now, Let’s hit the Frog and Toad.”

The man named Trip had reformed the once-ordered landscape of her mind.

Why is T’Pol having these de(il)lusions?

Are they dangerous?

Does Trip actually know Australian slang?

Any guesses?

Come back tomorrow for another 100 word installment, or visit the brand-new fanfiction.net series link!

Posted in Challenges and Contests, Flash Fiction Pieces, Story a Day May Challenge, Writers' Resources, Writing in Freedom, Writing Samples

All or Nothing for #StoryADay May; Day Nineteen

The Prompt:

  • Imagine the first (significant) meeting between your protagonist and a secondary character.

All or Nothing

“All or nothing… it’s all or nothing…all or nothing now!”

The lyrics are ridiculous; Ophelia thinks maybe a dog could do better, if only he could talk. Or that theoretical troop of chimpanzees with a typewriter…

But the beat is absolutely perfect for running to, so Ophelia puts up with the inane singing of the latest boy band. She’d ignore them, but she can’t. She tried getting a karaoke version, but the song was everywhere last summer – she heard it whenever she listened to the track, and it was worse if the lyrics weren’t there, because then she got them as an earworm for hours or days.

“All or nothing… it’s all or nothing…all or nothing now!”

Better just to have the lyrics in her mind during her run, and be able to let them go after.

“All or nothing… it’s all or nothing…all or nothing now!”

“All or nothing… it’s all or nothing…all or nothing now!”

“All or nothing… it’s all or -”

Ophelia stops listening, and slows to do a double-take at the fruit stand. Tomaru usually keeps something sweet waiting for her – guava, mango, pineapple wedges. She tries to pay, but he never takes her money – he says her smiles are payment enough.

But today there’s a strange young woman standing there. She’s model tall, model thin, model blonde, model beautiful.

And she’s holding a picture of Ophelia, and showing it to Tomaru, who is shaking his head while glancing covertly her way – he knowa when to expect her for her afternoon run.

She slows to a walk, taking her earbuds out so she can hear as she edges closer. The young woman is focused on Tomaru, not the street, so she gets close enough to hear.

“You’re sure you never saw her?” She’s bright pink from the sun, blue-eyed, and she has a mainland accent – Midwest, Ophelia thinks, but that’s mostly a guess based on movies. “My priv – I heard she’s lived near here her whole life.”

“I can tell you nothing.” Tomaru isn’t the kind to give away information.

“Are you sure?” The young blonde woman leans in close to the fruit man, and says, “She’s my half-sister.” Ophelia covers her mouth so she won’t gasp, because the woman isn’t done. “You see, he came here on business – and did some funny business with this Ophelia Morgan’s mom.”

“I can tell you nothing.” Tomaru is consistent.

Ophelia steps forward. “I’m Ophelia Morgan,” she says, then takes a deep breath as the woman turns toward her.

Here it goes – all or nothing, right now.


How will this meeting go?

Will these sisters accept one another?

Any guesses?

Come back tomorrow for another installment, and we can explore this new story seed together!

Posted in Challenges and Contests, Flash Fiction Pieces, Story a Day May Challenge, Writers' Resources, Writing in Freedom, Writing Samples

Sting and Bite for #StoryADay May; Day Eighteen

The Prompt:

  • There is a moment in every story where a protagonist has to make a choice: to take up the challenge of the story or to turn away. Everything else flows from that.

  • Today, write a story in which your protagonist makes the other choice.

Sting and Bite

“There’s nothing anyone can do to save this baby’s life, Marilyn.”

The words sting and bite with more force than a needle piercing her skin and penetrating a vein.

“Is it because of me – because of my -?” She couldn’t make herself say the words that would damn her, and the baby she carried.

“The exact causes aren’t known. However, your blood tests shows very low levels of folic acid, which is essential for the proper formation of the neural tube.”

“And what does that mean – for her?” She rubbed the protrusion of her belly, where the baby girl was growing.

“It means you may miscarry. If you carry to term, your daughter has a seventy-five percent chance of being stillborn. If she survives birth, she’ll live no more than a few weeks. There’s no treatment; she has only a residual brain stem. She won’t be conscious, and she’ll feel no pain. She won’t be able to see or hear. She might be able to swallow by reflex, if her brain stem has developed enough. Her spinal cord is exposed; she will be paralyzed from the waist down. All we can do for her is to keep her warm and comfortable until, inevitably, she dies.”

But that can’t be all! It’s not fair! She wanted to scream those things at the doctor, tell her how Brad had died the night he made this baby girl, how she’s the last part of him still alive -but she doesn’t say any of that. “Maybe her brain just hasn’t – I don’t know – caught up with the rest of her.”

“I’m sorry, Marilyn. Your daughter’s birth defect occurred in the third to fourth weeks of your pregnancy. Fetal development is a forward progression; she won’t go backward and catch up.”

The doctor paused, and Marilyn could feel that whatever was coming was even worse than the nightmare she’d already heard.

“She won’t be a person in any sense you can recognize, Marilyn – but there is some good that can still come of it. You could use this as a catalyst. Get into a good rehabilitation program. You’re young and intelligent, and you have your whole life ahead of you. Start taking better care of yourself and your diet – including a folic acid supplement, so that you minimize the chances of a recurrence if you decide to have another child. And, if you’d like to give some personal meaning to your little girl’s life, you could consider organ donation – most of her organs might be healthy enough to enhance or save another child’s life.”

It was all a swift sharp blade that cut through the illusions of her hazy life. She’d been trying to escape into oblivion, but it was no use. Reality had found her. It always did.

In that moment, she knew what she had to do. “Can you recommend a treatment program? I’ll go, right away, and do whatever it takes.”

And she knows that she will.

Will Marilyn actually go to rehab?

Will it be successful?

What happens to this version of Marilyn?

Any guesses?

Come back tomorrow for another installment, and we can explore this new story seed together!

Posted in Challenges and Contests, Flash Fiction Pieces, Story a Day May Challenge, Writers' Resources, Writing in Freedom, Writing Samples

They’re True for #StoryADay May; Day Seventeen

The Prompt:

  • Write a story about the days leading up to the beginning of your novel, or your story’s big incident. Alternatively, write a journal of those days from your protagonist’s point of view.

They’re True

“And we’ll spend about a week just laying out on the beach -”

Ophelia stops listening. Marilyn isn’t talking to her, anyway – or at least, not really. She’s sitting on the floor of the plane, cross-legged, utterly ignoring her eight-months’-swollen abdomen as she plays endlessly with her dolls, as though she’s not about to have a baby girl with no more brains than those stuffed cloth toys.

She sighs, and turns to look out the window at the world passing below them. Time to leave the harshness of a Midwest winter, and return to a climate she’s more familiar with.

Her hand, which has been paused over the page, moves, and these words emerge:

I wish I was going home, and that I had no idea I even have a half-sister.

Written out like that, it seems kind of terrible, like she’s committing some kind of crime that she can’t quite explain. She wants to scribble out the words, but she doesn’t.

They’re true.

And this is her journal.

She only writes the truth here.

The words remain, as indelible and incontrovertible as Marilyn’s swollen belly, or the scribbled gibberish that covers the bodies of the naked ragdolls.

How will Ophelia deal with this truth?
Will Marilyn realize how she feels?

Where are they going?

And why?

Any guesses?

Come back tomorrow for another installment, and we can explore this new story seed together!

Posted in Challenges and Contests, Flash Fiction Pieces, Story a Day May Challenge, Writers' Resources, Writing in Freedom, Writing Samples

She’s 13 Now for #StoryADay May; Day Sixteen

The Prompt:

  • Write a story that investigates a turning point in your protagonist’s past.

Fair Warning:  This post is NSFW, or for younger kids peeking over shoulders….

She’s 13 Now

13 year olds don’t cry, right?

She bites her lip, hard enough that her lip splits and bleeds. But she doesn’t cry about it; she just swallows the blood and keeps biting. She could eat the cake, but she doesn’t want to. All the servants have left, and she could have a cigarette, or a whole pack, if she wanted them. But what good is that, when there’s no one here to sneak around behind. Defiance needs an audience to be any fun at all.

That’s when the front door crashed open, and there were voices and crashing and laughter – drunken laughter.

Mom, and two men.

“Shh, stop – don’t know where the kid is.”

“Oh, come on, Desiree. We want you!”

“Yeah. We want you – now!”

Marilyn got up from the chair that was supposed to have been her Birthday Throne, and flattened herself against the wall nearest the foyer. And there was Mom, already more than half naked, her breasts being attacked by one man while the other was unzipping her skin-tight jeans -his were already around his ankles, showing what was clearly one hell of a fine ass that made Marilyn think of Brad and his ass, which she’d touched only through his jeans –

Brad, who wanted her to try heroin, and wanted her…

She’d always said no – but now –

She slips off to her mother’s room – Mom isn’t going to leave the foyer for a while, and she only brings her men to the guest room, even if she does. Somehow, she seems to think Marilyn won’t know about it if she fucks half the male population of the town in the far wing. Like she doesn’t even remember all the times she never got that far.

Marilyn witnessed her first orgy when she was ten.

She calls Brad. It only takes a minute to tell him to come to the side door, and straight up to this room. Then she runs a bubble bath in Mom’s huge garden tub – they can start right here. She strips out of her clothes, feeling naughty and desirable, her skin hot and hungry as she slips into the water and starts touching her breasts the way that man had done to Mom.

When Brad arrives, he’s bulging the front of his jeans. Maybe she should be scared, but that bulge makes her hungrier.

“Come fuck me, Brad.”

She’d thought he would argue, but all he does is strip, and climb in with her. It’s over almost before they start. It hurts, but Marilyn doesn’t care. And she cares even less when they go to Mom’s bed, and Brad helps her to shoot up for the very first time, and then there is only beauty and touching and the taste of Brad’s sweatslick flesh.

She is a woman now, and she chooses for herself.

Will Marilyn’s mother discover what she’s done?
If so, how will she react?

What’s next for Marilyn?

Any guesses?

Come back tomorrow for another installment, and we can explore this new story seed together!

Posted in Challenges and Contests, Flash Fiction Pieces, Just for Fun!, Story a Day May Challenge, Writers' Resources, Writing Samples

Indelible for #StoryADay May; Day Fifteen

Indelible:

“What the hell are you doing?!”

Marilyn just stares at her for a few seconds, then goes back to her incoherent scribbling. She’s gripping the marker so hard, it’s tearing the fine pages.

The book was a gift from Mom. But she can’t say that to her half-sister, not when Marilyn’s mother is dead. Not that Marilyn would be likely to understand, anyway – she has that look of being high, and there’s a foul stink in the air; something acrid burning. She’s already sribbled all over herself, her dolls, the sheets, and the wall. She’s naked, the trackmarks hidden by the ink.

And she’s destroying Ophelia’s home – and her life – in indelible ways.

How will Ophelia react?
Can she erase Marilyn’s destruction?

Is there any hope for Marilyn?

Any guesses?

Come back tomorrow for another installment, and we can explore this new story seed together!